((A novel project. NO STEALING ideas, characters, etc. because I DO have the materials to track down and sue if you do. Yeah. Sorry...I'm so paranoid. I HATE my story right now, it sucks, but like I told Kitt--- of whom I wonder why I even sent the private message version of this when I posted it right here---I am currently more concerned with FINISHING the damn novel than making it read amazingly. So I'm rushing. When it is finished, I will go back and do everything humanly possible to make it better....I am currently on chapter eleven but you guys only get the Preface because I'm mean. Kitt will get more because he's special...
Scroll down more. NO you don't get the summary because I'm paranoid it'll get ripped...sorry
....And NO I'm not seperating the paragraphs I HATE doing that when I want it to look like the actual pages of a book. I remembered to tab for new paras. Comments? Crit? Did you like it? I open to hear whatever you have to say.
@Entaru: (if he evens comes here) The whole 'prone scalpel' thing is your fault! You've confused me into believing 'prone'...is actually an adjective, when it's, like, not an adjective at all. At least not in that context!))
Atreju
“Destroy me…now…”
That muttering
Is a blasphemy against god that comes much too late
Get lost!!
A cruel act heals my boredom
Agonize over that savage melting caress
Do you want to drown with your eyes open?
Get lost out of my head
You’ve got to find the help of GOD
Until we’re allowed to be free…
Agonize over the inserted plug
Reach out your hand even farther, heal me furiously, I beg you
I said we got no guarantee
Embrace my truncated frame
Open your eyes even wider, destroy me furiously, I beg you
Until we’re allowed to be free…
Agonize over the inserted plug
Reach out your hand even farther, heal me furiously, I beg you
©Gackt - Ghost
PART ONE
PROMISES
Tell me, ye that desire to be under the law, do ye not hear the law?
-The Bible, Galatians 4:21
Preface
//.rabbit
“STOP!”
Medics clad in green scrubs balked and trembled. The girl, gulping, slowly stopped her bawling. She stared earnestly out the window of the tiny experimental room, longing for the hallway beyond, its freedom of mobility. Thrumming florescent lights burned and blinded above it all. Blood continued to drip steadily, not succumbing to will. Faintly, the
beep…beep…of a steely machine announced everything should still be normal. One of the medics, a tall fair-skinned man with his red hair in a pony-tail, who had been the lead in this operation for awhile now, gave a wary look of confusion towards the scientist who had
designed this operation.
“The girl is like a rabbit…you scare her too much and she’ll be lost to the field of grass forever.”
“But, Mister Emmett, you said---”
“Forget it. I changed my mind. You can clearly see she’s too frightened.”
The medic’s eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. Slipping off his surgical mask, he looked down at the girl, a painfully thin six-year-old child laid out on a slab of metal, her long white-blond hair in disarray, pale cheeks streaked with wet lines that shimmered in the bright light…mouth puckered as she bit into her lower lip, her hazy blue eyes indeed as wide as a rabbit’s would be in a similar situation. Monitors were attached by easily removable implant-wires to her forehead, her arms, and her legs. Both of her hands were secured to the slab in velcro cuffs, as were her ankles.
A maroon-streaked incision ran the length of her torso, vaguely Y-shaped, and, currently, that incision was pinned open with temporary staples. Her ribs and other bony obstructions had been yanked apart to reveal what lied underneath. Why, a fellow---if they were a particularly disturbed soul---would’ve been able to watch from a fascinating new perspective as her glistening lungs quivered and heaved from panicked breathing. If the scientist hadn’t ordered the medic to stop, that disturbed soul could have also watched as the medic took up the scalpel in his hands and sliced the girl’s heart right out of her body.
For the operation, they had decided to veer away from any sort of relief they might’ve offered this child--- anesthetic, Kaio Sentre, even light painkillers had all been frowned upon for reasons of technicality…and logic. She shouldn’t have been able to feel anything. But that had always been the key word with them…
shouldn’t. Likely, even if the girl had voiced her--- physical ---feelings on matters of pain, they would see it a lie. Because that simple rule always managed to come back and tweak their train of thought into focus: She shouldn’t have been able to feel anything. It wouldn’t make any sense if she could.
The smell of factory-fresh plastic tubing and antiseptic tinged the air in pockets of repulsion. But the smell had become so common to all of them that they hardly registered it anymore. Tucked into a corner of the room, arranged around a metal table almost in ceremony, several researchers in their lab coats and pastel button-ups sat expectantly, pencils poised over clipboards, having been jotting down every note and every vital possible up until this point.
“F-fix me….fix me…” the girl, barely able to get the words out at all, begged this of her captors. She started to bawl again. “Please. No. Don’t. N-no…P-p-please fix me,
p-p-please…” These words were carefully chosen from the small handful of vocabulary the girl actually knew how to say; her education was barbaric at best.
She understood what was supposed to happen here. And they understood very well what she was begging for. She was asking them to let her heal, something that would take a matter if seconds if only the staples were pulled out and her flesh realigned. Because…as of that moment…she must have been in a whole new dimension of pain.
---Agony at its most unimaginable. But they did not fulfill her request. It was not even considered.
Across the room, Emmett the scientist, hands in the pocket of his vividly white lab coat, strode over to the side of the slab to look down at her. His eyes were blue like hers, only lighter, and with less character, as though lacking certain experiences as well as emotion. He seemed, to her, different than normal. Maybe it was the way he let his long brown hair down instead of tied it back par usual. Maybe it was the way his beard looked thicker. Or maybe it was that he had become a totally different man from the one who’d befriended her days earlier with a smile and a joke. Now that the gloves were on and the lights as blinding as ever, he was
just not the same anymore. “I’ll be the one to do it,” Emmett announced. “Can’t have R-E257 scared into catatonia, now can we?” Taken aback, the medic handed him the prone scalpel, stepped back and let the scientist have the floor. “This’ll just take a moment, sweetheart, then it’ll all be over. Just a little snip to that heart of yours. There won’t be anything to fret over once you’re asleep. So try to keep breathing for me, okay?”
Emmett set the scalpel down on a rolling table at the bedside. He then produced a plastic anesthetic mask from what looked like out of nowhere, though really only pulled from a machine nearer to the floor. When the girl saw it, she immediately jolted against her restraints…to no effect. Strong hands of medics dashing towards duty flew in from every corner of her 'bed' to secure her in what they believed to be the best of positions, getting streaked with her ever-flowing blood as they did so.
Blue eyes wild, practically rolling back into her head, the girl bucked under their grasp. The sudden movement caused fresh pain to sear into her nerves as the staples holding her open tore her skin, minor but all the same agonizing irritants, like cat scratches alongside a gouge from a dragon’s ivory claw. Every monitor keeping register of her heart rate and brain activity began to fluctuate wildly. Ruby red blood beaded, formed tears, and ran into streams, streams that found their way to larger, darker rivers.
Then the scratches were gone as soon as they were made. Healed, replaced by skin so perfect it was as though the torture inflicted upon it never was.
This only made her buck more. She cried out in defiance as the mask was lifted and secured over her mouth. She found her cheeks streaked again with the familiarity of tears. She wished, more than ever, that they would take out the staples and let the gouge heal like the other cuts had…
But whilst the girl breathed and felt blurriness warp the edge of her vision, the more it became clear that they weren’t going to.
The more she struggled against it, the more frigid her thoughts were, and the more difficult it became to think them.
Finally, at long end, she drifted into the open arms of Morpheus... In sleep the rabbit was frightened no longer.
Topic: Atreju (Read 1147 times)